No Good Deed
by Kurt's Anatomy
Summary: When on a job in Lima, Ohio, Dean and Sam Winchester come across a string of peculiar events that are all connected with one boy in a way that entwines more than just a paranormal spirit. Eventual Kurt/Dean. Set in Season 1 of Supernatural and Season 3 of Glee. Dean's POV. Other notes inside. Rating may change to M later on in the story for slash purposes. No Blaine.
1. Chemistry

No Good Deed

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><p><strong>When on a job in Lima, Ohio, Dean and Sam Winchester come across a string of peculiar events that are all connected with one boy in a way that entwines more than just a paranormal spirit. Eventual KurtDean. Set in Season 1 of Supernatural and Season 3 of Glee. Dean's POV.**

**Story Notes: Dean and Sam are twin brothers. I know it might mess up the canon of Supernatural, but there you go. This isn't canon. **

**Also, I am not up to date with the seasons of Supernatural. In fact, I am about halfway through Season Two. So anything that doesn't add up with the characters or with the supernatural elements will be fixed when I obtain new information. PLEASE no spoilers as I am very excited by this show and want the full element of surprise when things happen. Also, I have considered where Castiel will fit in. From Tumblr, I already know some things about him, but not very much so again no spoilers. This is why the story takes place in Season 1 of Supernatural (and also because the characters are at their youngest). **

**This is a half and half Glee/Supernatural crossover. The characters of Supernatural are in the Gleeverse, Lima, Ohio. Kurt/Dean are already endgame in this story, but if you have any suggestions as to who Sam should be with (if anybody) from the Glee universe then please message me about it! I have a few options, but I'm not entirely sure yet. **

**Lastly, I hope you enjoy this start to this new fic of mine. If you think I should continue, then drop a review/PM. If there's little interest, I won't continue this as there wouldn't be much point in working on something that isn't read. Also, my update schedule is sporadic at best. I am eyebrow deep in college work and university applications so I hope you understand that this won't be updated regularly. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 1- Chemistry<p>

Lima, Ohio is a fucking strange place.

People walk around in tight clusters and nobody seems to take notice of anything unusual. Like Sam and I just roll into town in probably the only Impala the town has ever seen and nobody bats an eyelash. I'm telling you, Sam and I aren't exactly the most inconspicuous of people, we draw a lot of attention when we make the town headlines after saving a bunch of lives, but nobody in this godforsaken town seems to recognise newcomers.

Sam was reading the morning newspaper when he read about a strange incident occurring at the local high school, William McKinley. Turns out that the chemistry lab was broken into and there was a strange formation of chemicals everywhere. Like patterns on the walls and the floor. But the most peculiar thing was that there was a weird carving on one of the desks. It was like a triangle, but with a circle around the outside and spikes coming off it. The only thing I can be sure of is that it's a job for the Winchester brothers to sort it out. As usual. If only the police departments in every town in the country were attuned to the supernatural. That would make our job of hunting the demon that killed our mother so much easier.

So we're on our way to investigate. There are not many places that I hate more than schools, so I'm not entirely thrilled to be going into one. They just remind me of how boring education was. It confuses me still that Sam actually went to college to do _more_ of it. Seriously, how?

"Notice anything weird about the town?" Sam mutters from next to me. I turn to him and observe the dark bags under his eyes. Did he even sleep at all last night? I sure did.

"Besides the fact that nobody is even looking at us? Two strangers walking around are bound to attract attention in a small town like Lima, right? So why don't they seem bothered?"

"Dean, we're not celebrities. There probably won't be any paparazzi waiting for our entrance to the school."

"Speak for yourself."

At last we arrive at the school. It's not grand by any means, like Stanford where Sammy went and it pretty much seems like the worst school every established. I'm so glad that I didn't have to go here. I can already feel the burning of education in the air just outside it.

I see some of the most appropriate high school clichés to ever walk the planet. There are some tattooed girls with cigarettes in their mouths, thinking they're cool because they've got nose and eyebrow piercings. Wow, high school is so lame. There are the band nerds carrying an assortment of instruments into the building. That's when I see the most horrible of the clichés. There are the typical high school jocks surrounding a smaller boy who is clutching onto his messenger bag like it's a lifeline. To him, it probably is. Back in the day, that was Sammy when he was in high school. He was always getting tormented by the popular kids for nothing, just because he was an easy target and didn't defend himself. Sammy used to hate violence, but now it's become a necessity in our job. He still doesn't like it, but he has to get used to it in order to survive. I was never a jock, mostly because I knew how they treated people and I didn't want to be that guy. I'm athletic, but I put my energy into martial arts rather than ball sports.

Ha, that's ironic. Now I'm all about the ball sports, if you get my drift. In other words, I'm gay. I don't look the type, mostly because I'm not strutting and I dress very normally. I don't fit with the stereotype, and most people don't assume. Sammy is the only one that ever really guessed. He figured it out rather quickly. When you've grown up with someone, you tend to notice things about them that other people don't. Sam and I are close brothers, so it's only natural, I guess, that he realised before everyone else.

But enough about me. It's time to make a stand. Those football players shouldn't be able to terrorise this boy. And why isn't anybody else helping him? Poor kid.

I saunter over to them, fury boiling inside me. I get flashbacks to when Sammy was tossed into the dumpster. I had to get him out and clean him off so Dad didn't suspect anything when he came back from his hunting trip. They see me coming and I almost laugh at the looks of confusion on their faces. I don't have to look behind me to know that Sam is shaking his head but walking towards me anyway, begrudgingly, probably.

"Hey! Get off this kid. Leave him alone!" I growl, making them take notice. They don't release him. The kid looks bewildered, like he's never had anybody help him before. Hell, he probably hasn't.

"Did you not hear me? Are you deaf? Get the fuck off him and go get some brain cells!" This makes them scatter. Well, it might be because I rolled up my sleeves and looked menacing.

"You okay?" I ask the boy. That's when I get my first real look at him. Damn, he's beautiful. Like seriously _beautiful_. His hair is perfectly styled and his face is completely unblemished. He must have like magical moisturiser. I want to stop staring at him but I honestly don't think that I can.

"Um, yes, I am. Thank you for helping me, but please don't do it again. The last time someone tried to help, it was bad. But thank you, again…" The boy trailed off, waiting for me to speak.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." I extended my hand. He took it hesitantly, apparent trust issues showing through the pause.

"Kurt Hummel." Kurt Hummel, what a magical name. I know I'm going to keep repeating it in my head for a while. Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel.

"This is my brother, Sam." I introduce him as he stumbles his way over to us.

"Nice to meet you." Sam smiles politely.

"Likewise." Kurt replies.

"Well we're going to be sticking around for a while, so if you need us, we'll be here." I hope he needs us. Well, more specifically, me.

"Thank you, but I'm fine." Bullshit.

Sam speaks up. "Kurt, I was bullied a lot in high school and I know how easy it is to just smile and act like everything's okay, but it's not the best way to live. There's no shame in asking for help." My brother always knows how to word things.

"You don't know anything about me. I can do this on my own. I'm not a child." Kurt says, an icy mask suddenly coating him. Defence mechanisms. Ugh. Hate them.

"If you say so, but remember that we can help you if you need it." Sam holds his hands up.

Kurt looks about ready to cry but holds it in. "Excuse me, I have to be at Glee practise." Glee Club? He sings? Man, I have to hear this before we leave. Would it be super creepy if I spied on the rehearsal? I bet he's good. He doesn't seem like he would be bad.

"Dean? Dean?" Sam nudges me. Apparently I was daydreaming.

"What's up, boss?"

"Stop fantasising about Kurt and keep walking. We have a chemistry lab to check out remember? Now, we're chemical inspectors, whatever they are, so pretend like you know about stuff."

"Got it. My ID says that I'm Roderigo Gonzalez, dude that's so unbelievable. Isn't he like a Shakespeare character?"

"So your head _isn't_ just full of dust and flies? I'm impressed, Dean. Roderigo is from Othello."

"Fuck you. I know stuff."

"Come on, the sooner we know what these etchings are, the quicker we can leave this dump."

Leave? I don't think I said _anything _about leaving so quickly. I want to stick around for a while. There's something that's compelling me to this town. And his name might just be Kurt Hummel.

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><p><strong>Author's Note (again): Thank you for reading. Drop a reviewalert/favourite if I should continue. Thanks!**


	2. Decode

Chapter 2- Decode

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><p>Have I mentioned how much I hate schools?<p>

Well, Chemistry was always my worst subject. So heading back into a Chemistry lab in a high school is not my idea of a fun activity.

There's a poorly established official-style piece of caution tape plastered between the door, but it has obviously been easily snipped by a pair of regular scissors. The two sides hang down limply either side of the door and I can just tell that the disciplinary enforcement here sucks ass. It does in most public high schools, but they can usually maintain some kind of system, at least temporarily until it goes to shit.

Stepping over the threshold, I'm wary. I've been in seemingly innocent situations like this and they usually end badly. This time is different, though. These marks, these etchings don't seem like anything I've come across before and seeing them with my own eyes just confirms how out of our depth we are.

"Dean, what _are _these?" Sam says, leaning down to inspect them.

"No idea, but don't touch them. They could be activated by sensation." I reply, suddenly remembering the time when I was ambushed by a fiery demon because I touched a symbol that I didn't recognise. Wow, I'm not making that mistake again.

Sam nods, taking my advice to heart. Wandering around the classroom, I come across a sequence of runes that vaguely look like a demonic language I studied about two years ago. There obviously isn't a concrete alphabet and grammatical structure to it, but if you study it closely enough, you can learn to read it.

"Sammy, get over here." I beckon my brother, with hope that he brought Dad's journal along with us. The notes are in there.

"You found something?"

"Maybe. Did you bring the journal?" I ask, knowing that he probably has. He takes it everywhere with him now.

He nods affirmatively, rooting around in his satchel for it. An abrupt image of Kurt's face pops into my head along with the image of him cutely clutching his messenger bag like it is a lifeline. Wait, why is Kurt entering my thoughts at a time like this? I have a rune to figure out and I don't need an admittedly beautiful distraction keeping me from doing my job.

"Dean?"

"Journal?" I say gruffly. I don't want Sam to think that I'm losing my touch.

"Yeah, here. Is everything okay, Dean?"

"Everything's super, Sammy. This could take a while so you can go and get some food or something rather than waiting if you want." I suggest. We haven't eaten this morning so he's probably hungry. He takes the journal from me.

"Dean, you seem stressed. Here, let me decipher this and _you_ go and get _yourself_ some food. I've heard your stomach protesting like three times already this morning. I'll be fine, go and eat. Get some bacon for me." He chuckles, before studying the intricate runes with the same intense vision that he appraises everything remotely mystical. I rub my hands together, silently grateful for the opportunity to eat.

"Well I can't argue with that. I'll see you after I'm full." I clap him on the shoulder and leave, wondering if the school's cafeteria opens in the morning for a good breakfast buffet. Probably not, but it's worth scoping it out to check. There's bound to be some bacon there.

All the doors are closed apart from one. I hear a voice coming from inside.

"…showing us what he's learned about himself is Kurt Hummel." A man speaks. I'm about to pass when I focus on what I've just heard. Kurt Hummel. Something higher than myself grounds me to that precise spot, wanting to know what comes next.

Then I remember. Glee Club! Is Kurt about to sing something?

My answer comes in the next minute.

"I've learned a lot about myself this past year. I know that I can face anything and come out on top," I can't help but stifle a chuckle at that sentence. "And I know that anybody who tries to stop me from achieving what I know I can is fooling themselves and not worth my time."

Sassy. I love it.

"But alongside that, I've learned about love."

His speech is overlapped with the questionable spikes of envy that crawl up my back, prickling me with an unknown emotion. Am I…jealous that Kurt is or has been in love? Surely not, I've spoken to him once. It's not enough to be jealous. So why do I feel like this? That's one hell of a connection if I am in fact a victim of the green-eyed monster.

"I know now that love isn't something to be craved or coveted. It isn't something that you can just chase down until you find it. It finds you. _It _chases _you_ down until it finds you. And there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it when it hits you. But I've also learned that not all love is healthy. Not all love prevails. Some can be twisted and evil. Some love can be a disaster and fall to pieces as quickly as it arrives. Not all love is supposed to stand a chance. And that's what my song is about. Love that can't fly. Love that is grounded by its own feeble destiny. But one that we hope for anyway. One that we know is never happening but is the one that everybody roots for because it's _simple_. I've thought a lot about this and I finally know what love means."

Well that was all kinds of beautiful. I'm almost not ready for the guitars to start because I want to hear Kurt talk about love in his rich, clear tone for just a little bit longer. Wow Dean, get a grip of yourself please.

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><p><em>How can I decide what's right<br>When you're clouding up my mind  
>I can't win your losing fight all the time<br>How can I ever own what's mine  
>When you're always taking sides<br>But you won't take away my pride  
>No not this time<br>Not this time_

_How did we get here?_  
><em>Well I used to know you so well<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well I think I know<em>

_The truth is hiding in your eyes_  
><em>And its hanging on your tongue<em>  
><em>Just boiling in my blood<em>  
><em>But you think that I can't see<em>  
><em>What kind of man that you are<em>  
><em>If you're a man at all<em>  
><em>Well I will figure this one out<em>  
><em>On my own<em>  
><em>(I'm screaming "I love you so")<em>  
><em>On my own<em>  
><em>(My thoughts you can't decode)<em>

_How did we get here?_  
><em>Well I used to know you so well, yeah<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well I think I know<em>

_Do you see what we've done?_  
><em>We've gone and made such fools of ourselves<em>  
><em>Do you see what we've done?<em>  
><em>We've gone and made such fools of ourselves<em>

_Yeah...!_

_How did we get here?_  
><em>Well I used to know you so well, yeah yeah<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well I used to know you so well<em>

_I think I know_  
><em>I think I know<em>

_Ooh, there is something_  
><em>I see in you<em>  
><em>It might kill me<em>  
><em>I want it to be true<em>

The sudden burst of applause distracts me from my daze of all things 'Kurt'. I don't know what that song is but he sung the hell out of it. I almost want to run in and demand an encore but that would seem really creepy and I plan on staying here for a little while. Kurt's voice, like I imagined earlier, is stunningly beautiful. It isn't the most powerful, but the tone and range of it is mesmerising.

"Thank you, everyone." Kurt addresses the rest of the group and another voice begins speaking. So 'Kurt Time' is over. My stomach grumbles fiercely and I remember that I need to eat something.

I walk the rest of the way in silence, deeply pondering the essence of Kurt's song. Some of the lyrics stick with me and I so desperately wish I could quiz him on what he felt about them. I'm going all deep and poetic here, so sue me.

I'm intrigued by this boy and I want to know more. Is that such a bad idea? No, it's not.

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><p>Forty minutes later, I'm fed (with some sandwiches brought back for Sammy) and on my way back to the Chemistry classroom to check on Sam's progress with the runes. Thoughts of Kurt still swim in my head, but they're slightly dulled by the mystery of the etchings.<p>

I stroll into the classroom, presenting Sam with the sandwiches I brought.

"Ah, excellent. Thanks, Dean. You remembered my favourite."

"Course I did. You've had a thing for BLT's ever since you were six. It's hard to forget that voice that constantly whines for a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich when you're trying to listen to ACDC without disturbances."

"Well, while we're on the subject of disturbing, I've figured out what the rune means. It took me a while, but I've got it accurately."

"Hit me."

"It says '_Watch Elijah'. _Do you have any idea what that could mean?"

"No, none at all." I shrug. I don't know anybody called Elijah.

"Well we'd better find a lead soon. Some woman came flying past before and scared the shit out of me."

"Dude, a girl? That's so lame of you."

"No, not a girl. A woman. I think she's the cheerleading coach here."

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><p>As if on cue, Sue Sylvester turned the corner into the room.<p>

"Well, if it isn't Pansy Smurf and…I'm really not sorry but I have absolutely no idea who you are or what factory you just emerged from after hours of being forced to put the caps on top of bottles of purified water. Introduce yourself." She commands. Whoa, I get it. She's…something else.

"Uh, I'm Dean Winchester, nice to meet you." I extend my hand but she just stares at it.

"Just as I thought, you're a colossal waste of my time. Now if I find you lazy idiots spreading your 16th century industrialisation diseases in my school after this week, I'll have you shipped to a facial improvement camp in Guatemala. Someone has to check on the last person who tried to cross me." She glares at us and left the room.

Sam and I exchange glances, both slightly unseated by her demeanour and her entirely serious tone.

"What the fuck was that?"

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Another update for you all! I apologise if I'm terrible at writing Sue, she just escapes my technique. I'll try better in the future but I have some small comical plans for one Sue Sylvester so come prepared. Also, venture a guess about what you think 'Elijah' means. See if you're correct. If you are (Which I doubt) you'll get a dedication plus a virtual IQ score of 400. <strong>


	3. Sam Interlude

**Just a heads up, there will be a tense and POV change from here on out. It will be past tense and told in third person. I will update the existing two chapters when I get the chance to. **

Chapter 3- Sam Interlude

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><p>Sam sat, typing away furiously at his laptop, trying to research any possible links to 'Elijah'. He had considered figuring out if anybody at McKinley High was named Elijah, but there were no enrolled students in the last five years called Elijah, so that led him to search the Internet for any plausible research leads. He checked Lima's obituaries, any news headlines that may have featured anyone with the name. His search had proven fruitless, however, and he was out of any ideas. He consulted John's journal for anything significant, but nothing connected demons or supernatural creatures to this mysterious Elijah.<p>

Sam rubbed at his eyes, desperately trying to stay awake. Between the conditions of the Lima motel they were staying at and the disappointing search for Elijah, Sam needed to stay awake. Part of it was refusing point blank to sleep in such a disgusting bed, but most of it was the fierce need he felt to find Elijah. Sam checked his watch, which read 5:25AM. Sighing, he trudged to the bathroom where he splashed some water onto his face, making him feel slightly more awake.

He looked over at his brother, who was sleeping soundly, adjusting to the marginally warmer temperatures in Lima by sleeping barely clad on top of the covers. Ever since Sam found Dean in a very compromising position after a night with a girl (something Sam refuses to deal with), Dean always vowed to wear _something_ in bed, something which Sam was extraordinarily thankful for. He loved his brother, but there were boundaries.

Sam still didn't understand how Dean could sleep so deeply when there was a big mystery swirling over their heads like a storm cloud. Whenever there was something that they needed to figure out for their own safety and the protection of others, Sam would restlessly work to research it and figure out their next move whilst Dean's preferred method of action was to get a good night's sleep and pretend that everything would sort itself out in the morning when he rose (when actually it all came from the brain of Sam Winchester) and he would provide the muscle power and courage of whatever needed shooting or slashing.

Sam would concede that Dean was an extraordinarily skilled hunter and his brawn and (occasionally) his tactics would get them out of many a dire situation, but he rarely thought things through logically. Sam figured that that was Dean's fatal flaw in terms of hunting. His headstrongness was something that Sam was deathly afraid of, but he trusted his brother to know what he was doing. After all, he had been doing it longer and was definitely a better hunter than Sam would ever be, but they were completely different hunters with completely different styles and sometimes that just worked. And sometimes it didn't.

Dean groaned in his sleep and rolled over onto his front. Sam rather thought he mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'Kurt' but he would never tell Dean that. Well, unless he needed to, of course. Then he had a lot of good blackmail material against his older brother.

Sam reckoned that he understood Kurt Hummel a lot better than the latter boy thought he did. Sam himself was bullied in high school, although probably not for the same reasons. Sam was intelligent, remarkably so, but he wasn't particularly loquacious about his smarts. He kept it tempered, but his peers didn't really like the fact that he was doing better than them and rather thought that he was weird. Through time and experience, Sam learned that bullies were always people with problems of their own. They were always unique, but always equally significant. Sure, they weren't necessarily good people all the time, but they were still people. Kurt's bullies seemed just pain ignorant and Sam got the vibe from Kurt that he was extremely tired of them and that time was a major factor in this equation. Though Kurt seemed strong, everybody had their limits.

Dean's attraction to Kurt was obvious. Sam, though not gay himself, could definitely appreciate an attractive man. Kurt had beauty in bucket loads, he thought. He was statuesque, yet slender, and his pale skin was an oddly endearing factor. He dressed remarkably well for somebody in terribly small town like Lima, although it seemed to be incredibly ostentatious. Kurt Hummel seemed like a well put together, collected man and Sam figured that Dean could do a hell of a lot worse. Like Ben. Sam shuddered at the thought of Dean's first boyfriend, Ben. He was a slimy, nasty piece of work and Sam already got the impression that Kurt was nothing like Ben. Nothing at all. If he made Dean happy, he was already sixty notches in the ladder above Ben.

Sam scrolled down the list of tragic freak accidents in Lima over the past thirty years and one struck a chord in his mind. The article was dated thirteen years previously, but Sam read on anyway.

_A tragic house fire was the cause of Elizabeth Maybury's untimely death and the residents of Lima are stunned by the loss of one of their very own. Loved by many, Miss Maybury was a representative for several charities and donated her life to her family and to being an all-round good person. Causes of the fire are yet to be determined, but her fiancé and son are unable to comment at this present moment. It is safe to say that they are adjusting to a new life without Elizabeth in it and that they haves the full support of the townspeople who adored her. _

Well, didn't that just hit a little too close to home?

Googling 'Elizabeth Maybury' didn't strike up any possible leads, so Sam decided to call it a night. Tucking himself into bed, his mind was swirling with thoughts of Elizabeth's family. He could definitely empathise with them, whoever and wherever they were and would not have wished their situations upon anybody. It was horrible to think that somewhere, another boy had to grow up without a mother. Sam certainly had felt the effects of that, with John being extremely distant with only Dean to care for him. Sam often felt like he needed a motherly embrace to sooth his night terrors or to ask for cooking directions. Jessica's mother had become like a mother to him, but it was never the same.

Wherever he was, Sam silently prayed to whoever was listening for the little boy who had lost his mom.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I began to write the next part of this, then I realised that this interlude was necessary before it, so I slotted this in beforehand and the next chapter will be the one I started to write. Not sure of the ETA on that one, but I'm excited for this story and I have definite plans to continue. Thank you all for your patience, reviews and love. You all deserve trophies for being the best readers ever! :)<strong>


	4. Beyond Control

**Another quick note, Kurt believes in God in this story. I know his Atheism is a big part of his character, but his religion is important to this very AU story. Read on!**

**PS: I'm at the beginning of Season 5 in terms of Supernatural canon so I know a lot more about the series. I'm addicted tbh.**

Chapter 4- Beyond Control

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><p><em>Thirteen years ago… <em>

_The fire danced wildly across the room, catching onto all it encountered, sparking a fierce blaze onto it, the curtains flapping with the wind from the slightly open window. The man rushed into the room, scanned the contents and chose to take the stairs to the first floor, kicking open the first door on the left. The room was ablaze. _

_The upstairs bedroom heavily the resembled the lounge, the flames licking their way across the walls and the ceiling. The ceiling. He looked up and saw the very thing that he had wished would never happen. _

_She was pinned there, like she was wrapped in an invisible cocoon. Blood dripped feebly from the open slash wound on her stomach, like a rusty tap, and her eyes were glazed over, the fire billowing all around her. It travelled over her body and consumed her in a rush of intense heat, the noise deafening him. He tried to cry out, but the smoke had taken hold of his lungs and the surrounding environment swallowed his scream easily. _

_Amongst the roaring embers that swirled around the room, the man heard a door creak from behind him. Spinning around, he took in the sight, trying desperately to stifle the emotions he was feeling. No, this was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be like this. _

"_Kurt?"_

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><p>Kurt Hummel awoke breathily from his nightmare. The one that had plagued him for at least eleven years without fail. He was getting increasingly tired of always having to relive his mother's death and not being able to stop it. He couldn't exactly talk to anybody about it, because who on God's good Earth would believe him? Any counsellor or therapist that he could possibly speak to would just dismiss him so easily and he did not need that kind of stress in his life. He already had a lot of things to deal with. He had to think about college, dealing with Karofsky and his cronies, and he really wanted the solo at Regionals this year. Screw Rachel, he was not letting her have it.<p>

Kurt felt that familiar stirring sensation that he always felt whenever he woke up from the recurring nightmare. It was like a hurricane swirling around the contents of his stomach. He hated feeling like this, but he could not prevent it. He had tried everything to rid himself of such an abhorrent dream sequence, but he kept on reliving it, every night like clockwork.

Somewhere in the back of Kurt's mind, there was a part that was completely filled with thoughts of Dean Winchester.

Kurt had spoken to him for all of three minutes, but he found himself completely captured by the older man. That could have been it; he was older and therefore more mature. And he had _helped_ Kurt, which just anybody didn't even attempt. He had scared off the bullies and genuinely looked like he had cared about Kurt's wellbeing. That could have just been because his brother Sam had been bullied in high school, too, but Kurt sensed something deeper.

He blinked, feeling a pang of pain in his head. He had learned to block it out as a side effect of waking up from a particularly destructive nightmare.

Kurt dressed for school in a haze of nightmares and Dean. He had managed to keep on the right track to coordinate a classy outfit for himself, but his heart just wasn't in it. He didn't quite know what was up this one morning, but he was not feeling like himself. His head remained in pain and his stomach pains had yet to cease. Kurt could already glean that the day ahead would be treacherous and awful, as most days were. Some days he would navigate on autopilot, blocking out the really jarring details of the day and concentrating on…well, nothing, actually.

He often wondered how he never crashed his car when he was in moods like this. His face dropped into a perpetual scowl and his friends were nonplussed as to his behaviour. It was like a dark shadow descended upon him on randomised days, forcing him to live like a stormy cloud until it passed.

Usually, Kurt's morning depended on whether the jocks were lurking by the trash, just waiting to throw him in and laugh. There was something sinister about the delighted way that David Karofsky's eyes flickered when he was lying helplessly inside a garbage receptacle. After Dean's admittedly impressive act of assistance, Kurt's punishment was bound to be doubly horrendous. He had had enough, though. He was not a violent person by any means, but there was something about all that he had to endure that made him want to crack a few ribs and deliver a swift kick to Karofsky's crotch.

Wait, what?

This was not like Kurt Hummel. Kurt was a pacifist at heart, so what was the motivation for wanting to kick their asses? Maybe it was seeing Dean Winchester's menacing stance working effectively combined with all of his anger towards the situation that finally made him snap. Maybe it was the stress? Maybe Kurt was developing as a person into somebody who was not against violence. It happened. It wasn't the strangest thing to happen in Lima.

Grasping the strap of his messenger bag a little too tightly, Kurt passed the jocks, giving them a half-hearted glare for their enjoyment. They enjoyed it when he didn't care about them. It made him an easier target for them to capture. When he resisted, he was scrappy and wiry and made for a worthy adversary.

"Where do you think you're going, Hummel?" Karofsky spat, like saying Kurt's name was a chore. Kurt seethed. Where did Karofsky get off on talking to him like that? If this kid wanted a show, Kurt would certainly give him one.

"To meet my friends, you dick. You know, the girls that you're not scoring with because you're a good for nothing asshole." Kurt shrugged, putting heaps of sass into his gestures. The chorus of sniggers made Kurt want to belt out an ironic chuckle for their benefit. He refrained from doing so and composed himself.

"At least I'm not a fucking faggot."

Kurt almost _did_ chuckle right then because of the hopelessness lying underneath Karofsky's feeble attempt at a retort.

"It's fine, we don't want you anyway. Us gays are classy people and we would definitely _not_ want an obnoxious ogre like you coming out and disrupting the elegant community we have established. But know this. The moment you mess with me, you're messing with things beyond your control. I pray that you understand the importance of what you're dealing with. This is no mere high school issue. This goes beyond anything you've ever dreamed of. So fuck you, Karofsky and don't bother me again." Kurt turned around and frowned. Where had _that_ come from? That was not planned. That was something else entirely. He had wanted to stop at the 'elegant community' part, but something inside of him had snapped, providing him with the words he had not conjured up. Questioning everything, he strode into the school, leaving bullies and word vomit as a thing of the past. He hoped that they would get the unmeant message about bigger things, but doubted that they could even comprehend such a warning.

* * *

><p>After the jocks had reluctantly dispersed, Karofsky possessing a foul rage, Dean Winchester stepped out from behind the dumpster, looking a mixture of impressed and confused. He was definitely glad that Kurt had defended himself and was more than a little turned on by such a display. On the other hand, he was extremely confused as to what he had rambled on about towards the end. Something about 'beyond your control' stuck in Dean's mind. He had definitely heard <em>that<em> before. But that had come from…a ghost. Kurt was not a ghost. Sure, he might have been considered as pale as one, but he was real, a physical being.

Dean frowned, knowing that something was dodgy about the town of Lima and Kurt Hummel, but it was not something that he could accurately put his finger on. He decided to leave the research to his brother and investigate the chemistry lab once more, to see if he could pick up anything else about Elijah or what the word meant.

He had no idea what he was about to walk into.


End file.
